Page 17 of Rocking the Receiver
Fuck!The talented moron messed with my head big time, but I’m not going back down now. Since my intent is less than honorable with him, I’d rather keep our friendship to ourselves.
Skin itching, I grab the blunt, then open the window and sit on the windowsill. I take a long drag, reveling in the sensation, before exhaling slowly.
Much better…
Phone in hand, I type at record speed, telling Rupert how much I loved his live session and to grab a couple of beers and join me upstairs if he feels like it.
My heart somersaults as I hear a rap on the door.
It’s about fucking time!
It hammers inside my chest when I hear his sexy, muffled, and hesitant timbre. “Elliot, you there?” It’s cute he doesn’t barge in like my siblings would.
“Come in!”
Rupert
AFTER CLOSING THE DOOR,I awkwardly slide my hand behind me and turn the key in the lock while ogling Elliot’s filled-out frame. I can’t look away.
He ditched his formal attire in favor of more revealing clothes, which I’m grateful for. My mouth waters at the sight of his muscular body. He’s definitely all grown-up.
Relaxed by the window, he pulls on a joint, drawing attention to his sinful mouth. And just like that, watching his appetizing lips wrapped around it ignites something in my lower belly. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on the fact I instinctively searched for him. Nor could I consider why I followed his lead. But at this very moment, there is not an ounce of doubt as to why I am here.
The smell of weed somehow enhances the silence between us. Our muted conversation doesn’t require words. Lust. Secrets. Agreement.
Flashes of our brief and forbidden kiss resurface. My pulse trips over itself. His stare shows his true intent. Our labored breathing proves we are on the same page.
I make a mental checklist of the similarities between the man I’m facing and the boy he was only a year ago. He hasn’t changed much… Nah, strike that, he’s way different. His assertiveness is definitely not that of a spoiled brat, as he used to refer to himself—and I agreed. So much has changed between us since then, and yet, so little.
My entire being yearns to watch him follow his dreams and thrive, like I did. At this very moment, though, I ache to touch him. In turn, my length comes to life, thickening against my zipper. I breathe in and out.
Eventually, I find my voice again, but remain stuck by the door, holding the door knob. “Why did you leave?”
“I needed some time alone,” he deadpans, his voice scratchy.
“So, you liked the show, huh?”
“Are you kidding me? You were nothing short of amazing. You managed to bring out emotions…” Elliot stammers, “…emotions that I’ve never felt before, and you know that country isn’t my jam. But you made me want more.” His sly grin doesn’t go unnoticed as he stands up and takes another hit of the blunt before he puts it away on a small plate. His eyes don’t leave mine. “More of you, that is. Our attraction… It’s inevitable. You feel that… pull as much as I do, don’t you?” Lightly coughing, I smile approvingly. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I want you. That won’t change anytime soon.”
Given free rein, I close the distance between us, put the two beer bottles down on the windowsill, and unabashedly inhale his masculine fragrance. My sweaty palms cup his rosy cheeks, and I angle his face to my liking. My mouth crashes into his, getting reacquainted with the blissful sensation. I close my eyes, all of my focus on him.
I fought so damn hard against it for so long. I stood by what I told him: I’m no predator. But hard is the effect he has on my length while my clueless heart melts for the person he is, or should I say, the man he’s becoming more and more every day.
Yes, we’re years apart. Yes, he’s my best friend’s younger brother. Yes, I’m letting my cock overrule my rational brain.
Like a moth to a flame, I didn’t stand a chance in the long run. My irrepressible need for him invades my heated body as our tongues stroke one another. Our hard-ons rub against each other. Our hands roam over each other’s clothed bodies.
Swallowing his moans is such a turn-on, no matter how much the taste of dry blood from his wounded lower lip stuns me. Aprimal need to protect him arises, even though there was a time I made a point of protecting us from each other.
God, I should pace myself!
I break the kiss and pop my eyes open.
Groaning, Elliot does, too. Swiftly, he takes a drag of the joint again before plunging his tongue deeper into my mouth. My hand reaches for his soft hair while the other settles on the back of his neck. I whimper when he slowly sighs, then breaks the welcome back kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” I pant.
He smirks at my admission. He once texted me those exact words, and I berated him for not staying true to our friendship. Today, I am the one implying more than I say.
